Ignotus

by Kevin Hardman

  “The problem,” Planck continued, “is that the nanobots can’t seem to differentiate between living and non-living things.”

  “In other words, they suck the water – and the life – out of everything around them,” Chantrey concluded.

  Planck nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “So how exactly did you get them onto those ships?” Browing queried.

  “That’s where Sergeant Loyola came in,” Planck answered. “The nanobots are generally kept dormant in special containers. However, within each container is a generator. When the generator is turned on, the nanobots are activated.”

  “So how do you turn on the generator?” Chantrey inquired.

  “It just needs an influx of power, and it’s designed to secure it from myriad sources,” Planck explained. “A battery, or a live wire, or–”

  “Light,” Maker interjected. “Including laser light.”

  “Exactly,” Planck concurred with a smile. “The corner of the containers that Sergeant Loyola shot with her laser rifle were the areas that contained the generators.”

  “But didn’t her shots destroy that section of each container?” Maker asked.

  “Yes,” Planck admitted, “but the generator only needs power flowing through it for a nanosecond – no pun intended – in order to activate the bots. The laser beam did that. Afterwards, the nanobots came flying out of the container and I used a laser pointer to push them to the alien ships.”

  Browing frowned. “What do you mean, you pushed them to the ships?”

  “When they were being designed, we came up with several methods for making the bots move in the direction we wanted them to go,” Planck explained. “One of those techniques was light sails – microscopic sails which, as the name implies, can harness light and use it to move a craft. Of course, it moves them at sub-light speed, but still pretty darn fast.”

  “So you used the pointer to fill the light sails and send all the nanobots to the various ships,” Chantrey concluded.

  “Well, not all of them,” Planck admitted.

  “What do you mean?” asked Maker.

  “They’re microscopic, so it’s not like I could actually see them,” the scientist explained. “But I knew that I’d be able to send enough of them to the various ships to get the job done.”

  “And the rest are what – just floating out there?” Browing asked. “What if they find their way to our ships?”

  “That’s unlikely,” Planck insisted, shaking his head. “First of all, they can’t survive – for lack of a better term – in the vacuum of space for very long. In fact, they will avoid non-atmospheric conditions whenever possible. In addition, my laser pointer served as a directional beacon of sorts, kind of like the old laser-guided missile systems. Any nanobots that didn’t catch the beam in their light sails would have tried to reach the respective alien ships under their own power because that’s where the beam pointed.”

  “And after they got to the ships, they just went to town, right?” Maker asked. “Swarmed all over each of them and sucked the place dry.”

  Planck shrugged. “It’s what they were designed to do. And again, they’re microscopic, so it would have been pretty tough to keep them out once they reached their destination.”

  “What about the ships blowing up?” queried Maker. “Were they designed to do that as well?”

  “No,” the scientist admitted. “Without specific instructions regarding what to do with the water they absorb, the nanobots will perform electrolysis – split the water into the hydrogen and oxygen atoms that comprise it. Hydrogen, being a highly flammable gas, may have interacted with something on the ships, which resulted in an explosion. However, my best guess is that the bots attacked some structure that required water or moisture to properly function – a cooling system for the engines or something like that. Since it happened on all the ships, it probably relates to something in their configuration or construction.”

  “So if Kpntel and his cronies hadn’t been turned into dry husks,” Browing noted, “they would have gotten blown to bits.”

  “That wasn’t the plan,” Planck replied, “but apparently that’s how it worked out.”

  “Well, to be honest,” said Chantrey, “I’m more concerned about the nanobots doing something like that on one of our ships – or worse, on one of our worlds.”

  “No, no, no,” intoned Planck. “That will never happen.”

  As he spoke, he reached into the satchel he was carrying and pulled out something that caused Maker’s eyes to go wide with shock: it was one of the containers used to house the nanobots they’d been discussing.

  “See, the container that the bots are in is completely sealed,” Planck continued, holding up the white box (which Maker could now see was made of metal) for all to see. “Furthermo–”

  “Are you crazy?!” Maker bellowed. “You brought one of those damn things on board the Nova?!”

  “Actually, I brought the last three with me,” Planck responded, patting the satchel to indicate that the remainder were inside.

  Chantrey, looking pale, asked, “Why would you do that?”

  “Well, the captain of the cruiser I was on asked me essentially the same things you did,” Planck explained. “After I told him about the nanobots, he didn’t want them on his ship anymore. Actually, I don’t think he wanted me on his ship anymore, either.”

  “I can’t imagine why not,” Maker deadpanned.

  “Anyway, I complied with his wishes, so here we are,” Planck said. “But you want to know what’s funny? He wanted the nanobots off his ship because he thought they were dangerous, but these things” – he shook the container in his hand for emphasis, causing the other three present to wince – “these things are a Christmas present compared to some of the stuff in his cargo hold.”

  And then he started laughing.

  Chapter 81

  For Maker, the first order of business after the discussion with Planck was to confiscate the remaining nanobot containers. Fortunately, Planck didn’t make a fuss about it, so Maker was able to take possession of them without issue. After doing so, his natural inclination was to strap them to a rocket and fire it into the nearest star. Instead, however, he locked them in the safe in his office. (Also – just in case something happened to him later – he brought Adames up to speed regarding the containers and their location.)

  Next, he checked in with the two cruiser captains, who were naturally ready to head back to Gaian Space. With no need for their services anymore (and establishing that neither was willing to take custody of the nanobot containers), he confirmed that they could depart. Within fifteen minutes, the two ships were gone.

  With the Nova now alone in an unfamiliar (and possibly unfriendly) region of space, Maker was more eager than ever to get the last leg of their journey underway. As before, however, the navigation system was having problems. Focused on getting answers, Maker tracked Wayne down to his workroom, where the latter was busy reassembling Skullcap’s armor.

  “I can’t tell you what the issue is,” Wayne declared in response to Maker’s inquiries. “I’ve run diagnostics three times and there’s nothing wrong.”

  “There’s got to be something,” Maker insisted. “I mean, a halfway decent navigator could have calculated a jump by hand at this point.” It was a slight exaggeration, but not far from the truth.

  “I get what you’re saying,” Wayne countered, “and I don’t disagree. But if there’s some problem, it’s not systemic.”

  “So what, we just have to wait it out?”

  “Apparently,” Wayne noted. “But on the bright side, it does give me time to finish putting this” – he gestured towards the dismantled armor – “back together.”

  Maker gave the pieces of the battle armor a once-over. “How’s that coming, by the way?”

  “It’s pretty straightforward,” Wayne said. “I could probably do it with my eyes closed.”

  “Well, hurry up and finish,” Maker admonished, �
��and then get that nav system working.”

  “Will do,” Wayne replied as Maker left.

  ***

  Maker left Wayne’s workroom still feeling agitated. He was ready for this mission to be over. The only thing left on their agenda was getting Skullcap home, but the Nova itself seemed to be thwarting their plans.

  At the thought of taking their insectoid guest home, however, something new occurred to Maker, and he realized he had to have another conversation with Planck. Thus it was that, a few minutes later, he found himself outside the man’s door. Pressing the doorbell, he was surprised when it was opened almost immediately.

  “Lieutenant,” he said. “Please come in. I’ve been expecting your visit.”

  “You have?” Maker asked as he stepped inside and the door shut behind him.

  “Of course,” Planck stated, leading the way to the living room. “Bearing in mind that our final destination is Ignotus, I knew you’d come to see me at some juncture.”

  He took a seat in an easy chair while Maker sat down on the end of a sofa diagonal to him.

  “So,” Maker droned. “What can we expect when we get there?”

  “Vacra,” Planck answered with a grin. “Lots of them.”

  Maker smiled, appreciating the man’s attempt at humor. “Anything more specific?”

  “Well, you have to remember I was a prisoner, so it’s not like I got the grand tour. I can give you a better description of their holding cells than I can of their guest quarters.”

  “So you’ve got no idea what kind of reception we should expect.”

  “Well, I typically didn’t get the invite to formal events. Although occasionally…”

  He trailed off, staring into the distance. It was clear to Maker that he was recalling some event or other related to their conversation.

  “Occasionally what?” Maker prompted.

  “Huh?” Planck muttered, coming back to himself. “Oh, uh, they would, uh, occasionally bring someone to watch when they, uh…when they extracted information from me.”

  Planck looked down. This was clearly a subject that was difficult for him. That said, it was important for Maker to get whatever he could from the man, although he had difficulty keeping his voice even in light of what he’d just heard.

  “They invited others to watch while they tortured you?” queried Maker. “Like entertainment?”

  “No,” Planck responded, shaking his head. “I mean, yes, they did bring others in, but – looking back – I don’t think it was just for kicks.”

  “Still, to parade people through while they put you on the rack and such… It’s barbaric.”

  Planck’s eyes narrowed. “Now that I think about it, it actually wasn’t an extensive list of people they had me perform for, so to speak. There was really just one person – or just one race, I should say, since I honestly couldn’t tell the difference between individuals.”

  “Did you recognize them?”

  “No, they were a species humanity hasn’t encountered yet,” Planck noted, shaking his head. “They looked like something you’d get if an Old Earth aardvark and a table leg had a baby – a snout, wooden epidermis, light fur, a tail.”

  Maker frowned. It didn’t sound like any race he’d ever heard of.

  “Anyway,” Planck continued, “more than the physical distress, it was the psychological torture that really broke me down.”

  Maker merely nodded, not saying anything.

  “It was like an extreme version of ‘good cop, bad cop,’” Planck went on. “There would be periods where they’d treat me almost humanely, and I’d start thinking that the Vacra weren’t so bad. A minute later, they’d be waterboarding me. Sometimes I think it would have been better if it had just been torture all the time, you know? At least then I would have known what was coming. But not knowing what to expect whenever they opened the door – wondering if I was going to get food for the first time in days or get hooked up to a car battery – it was agony.”

  “And Skullcap was there?” Maker asked.

  “Typically,” Planck said. “It was like he took a personal interest in me.”

  “And the sub rosa tech?”

  Planck nodded. “I had to tell them about it – show them how to operate it. Not all of it, mind you, but enough. Frankly speaking, I think most of it frightened them. They didn’t seem to understand how or why humans would construct some of the things we did.”

  “Like the Poseidic Exsiccator.”

  “Exactly. To them, we were playing Russian roulette with our very existence.”

  Maker didn’t comment, but Planck’s statements jibed with what he’d been told about the Vacra not wanting the sub rosa tech anywhere near their homeworld.

  “Well,” Maker intoned, coming to his feet, “I should let you get some rest. I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

  “A little,” Planck agreed, rising as well. “However, I was wondering if I might ask a favor.”

  “Sure,” Maker replied, although somewhere in the back of his mind he was wondering if he’d regret it.

  Planck seemed to concentrate for a moment, then let out a deep breath. “As you already know, before the Vacra captured me, I oversaw the development of all kinds of technology and devices – most of which could be weaponized or had some kind of military application.”

  “Like the nanobots we discussed earlier,” Maker chimed in.

  “Yes,” Planck muttered almost sheepishly. “I was a different man back then, just pursuing knowledge for its own sake and not worrying about the effects or long-term outcome of what we were doing. And after today, I suddenly realize how easily I could go back to being who I was – how seamlessly I could slip back into that skin.”

  Maker frowned. “I thought that’s what you wanted – to go back to being normal.”

  “That’s just it – there’s nothing normal about what I did before. Normal people don’t sit around thinking of new ways to kill people, or work on refining weapons that could make an entire race extinct. They don’t do what I’ve done or see the things I’ve seen, and then sleep like a baby at night.”

  “You can’t look at it like that,” Maker stressed. “You have to disassociate yourself – not allow what you do to define who you are. It’s like being a soldier; you’re required to kill, but it doesn’t make you a killer.”

  Maker worried for a second that the distinction might be lost on Planck, but he seemed to grasp it.

  “I understand,” Planck stated, “but…” He went silent for a moment, then let out a deep sigh and continued. “I saw the way the rest of you looked at me when I told you about the nanobots. Shock, horror, disgust.”

  “To be honest, I think it was just fear,” Maker interjected. “Nobody wanted to end up a dust bunny.”

  Planck snickered slightly at that, rewarding Maker’s attempt to lighten the mood.

  “Regardless,” Planck said, “I suddenly realized that people had been looking at me like that for years, and I’d never noticed. But, although I ignored them at the time, your expressions today stuck with me for some reason. And now, I don’t want people looking at me like that ever again, but if I go back to having the same duties and doing the same work as before, that’s exactly what will happen.”

  “I understand,” Maker uttered, commiserating with the man. “But I’m not sure what the solution is.”

  “Well,” remarked Planck, “I was hoping that – since none of your people appear to judge me for my past – I might become a permanent part of your team.”

  Chapter 82

  Maker left Planck’s cabin without giving the man a definitive answer. Had the request been made before they left – back when he was bargaining with Lafayette – Maker might have acquiesced. At the moment, however, he felt he had likely used up all his chips in terms of demands and special requests. (Plus, Planck’s handlers would probably have a lot of heartburn at the thought of him simply walking away.)

  Surprisingly, however, it was something else
that kept clawing its way to the forefront of Maker’s brain: Planck’s treatment at the hands of the Vacra. Not that Maker was unaware of what had happened when Planck was in their custody – everyone on the Nova knew. It was more the fact that Skullcap seemed to be taking on the role of staunch ally now. It galled Maker severely, and he unexpectedly found himself filled with a desire to confront the insectoid.

  As it turned out, however, Skullcap wasn’t in his cabin when Maker dropped in. A quick chat with the bridge indicated that the Vacran was in the observation lounge under the watchful eye of Adames. Maker immediately headed in that direction.

  When he arrived, he first noted Skullcap standing near the outer window while Adames, near the rear of the lounge, kept the Vacran in view. Much to his surprise, he saw that Erlen was in the lounge as well, and was also at the window near their guest.

  Maker quickly approached Adames, who acknowledged his presence with a nod.

  “What’s going on here?” Maker asked, gesturing towards Erlen and Skullcap.

  Adames shrugged. “Beats me. Our Vacran friend requested a little time here, and I figured it was suitable compensation in light of the fact that he behaved himself during that situation with Kpntel. Erlen was already here when we arrived. I thought somebody was going to get mauled to death, but they just sort of fell into place where you see them now.”

  Maker’s brow furrowed as he pondered the NCO’s words. Throughout this mission, Erlen had seemingly abandoned his typical attack-on-sight approach when it came to the Vacra, which was downright bizarre. The Niotan now appeared to be on civil – if not openly friendly – terms with their guest.

  “So what are you thinking?” Maker asked. “That they declared peace or something?”

  Adames smiled. “If not peace, then at least a ceasefire.”

  Maker was on the cusp of responding to that when he heard Erlen let out an angry growl.

  “Looks like the ceasefire is over,” he said.